


The Quickest Way To A Person's Heart

by Mandibles



Series: In which I try to cope with the Colton Thing [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Foot Fetish, I WARN YOU NOW, I WAS TIRED, I'm Sorry, IT ENDS WITH A FOOT PUN, M/M, YOU CAN PROBABLY TELL THE PUN FROM THE TITLE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be honest, Jackson hasn’t given much thought to his feet. But, this changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quickest Way To A Person's Heart

To be honest, Jackson hasn’t given much thought to his feet. Sure, they’re there and he knows that, but he just isn’t constantly aware of their presence, you know? They just aren’t things he thinks about or even cares to think about, really, as long as they do their job. 

But, this is different. This is very, very different. This changes everything.

After another arduous lacrosse practice, Jackson finds himself sprawled back on his bed with muscles that ache and raw skin that stings and swollen feet that Stilinski cradles in his hands. Jackson’s mouth goes slack for a shuddered sigh as a tongue trails a wet path up the sole of his foot, from heel to between his toes. He tries to restrain his giggle from the touch, but curled toes, curled foot betray him.

Stilinski chuckles as his tongue strokes between freckled toes, painting them with saliva until Jackson tosses his head back on his pillow. Then teeth dip down and scrape at the arches of the foot, making toes wriggle and hands clutch sheets. Fuck, okay, yeah, when Stilinski offered this, Jackson did not expect to like it, especially not this much. He never knew that his feet could feel this way; he never knew that simple, tickling fingers could make him so hard.

A huffed laugh leaves him, unbidden. “Oh my god, Stilinski—”

“Good?” Stilinski mewls around a toe before slurping on it, worrying it gently with his teeth.

Jackson arches, hums. “Yeah. Yeah, I just—I mean, I never—”  _I never thought I could get off on my toes being sucked_. “I like it,” he decides on lamely, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. That seems to be enough for Stiles, though, the smell of satisfaction sweet in the air as he moves on to his big toe, nipping at it until Jackson wriggles his toes.

And, it’s all so strange, all so domestic and strange, especially considering that the bottle of whiskey that usually accompany these moments, trigger them, remains unopened and untouched on Jackson’s dresser. They’re drunk on something else entirely as they laugh and grin together like this, Stilinski worshiping Jackson’s feet for no reasons other than to ease Jackson’s post-practice agony and appeasing this weird fetish he’s probably been harboring since who knows how long.

It’s strange, but it’s … nice. Being around Stilinski, being alone with him, being the center of his attention is nice. It’s nice and, somehow, that doesn’t scare him, doesn’t make him want to run off. It’s when Stilinski noses at the arch of the foot, presses gentle kisses to the sole that Jackson giggles at the absurdity of it all, because it suddenly hits him: when he thinks of Stilinski, he thinks of love, too.

Seriously, who knew the way to his heart was through his sole?


End file.
